


The Princess's Opera Box

by FleuretteFfoulkes



Category: The Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Orczy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27422101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleuretteFfoulkes/pseuds/FleuretteFfoulkes
Summary: The Princess of Wales is an old friend of Chauvelin's, from back when she was merely Marguerite St. Just, lacking in both money and titles but not brains. Now she has both of the former in abundance, but her husband hasn't provided her with much of the latter.
Relationships: Marguerite Blakeney & Armand Chauvelin
Kudos: 4
Collections: Trope Bingo: Round Fifteen





	The Princess's Opera Box

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the square "AU: Royalty/Aristocracy/Feudal" on my Trope Bingo card.
> 
> Some dialogue has been borrowed from the book—though, ironically, _not_ from the chapter "In the Opera Box". (It's all from their previous conversation, in "The Accredited Agent".)

It was surprisingly easy for Citizen Chauvelin, the accredited agent of the French revolutionary government, to obtain admission to the Princess of Wales's opera box. A tap at the door, a murmur to her private secretary, a moment's wait while the man whispered in the princess's ear—and then she turned around to smile broadly at Chauvelin. With a peremptory gesture, she dismissed the crowd of hangers-on and admirers that surrounded her, and even her secretary followed in their stead. 

"Your Royal Highness," Chauvelin said with a bow.

"Mon ami Chauvelin!" said the princess. "I am mightily pleased to see you."

Chauvelin kissed the tips of her fingers, and allowed himself a sharp-edged smile that he knew she could not see. "And are you so quickly bored with England, and with your husband?"

"Can one be bored with a man who is present as little as my husband is?" The princess raised a small jeweled fan to her lips, and began to twirl it between her fingers. "He's always shooting in Scotland or fishing in Wales or yachting in the Channel. It's very difficult to become tired of a man who spends so little time in the same city, let alone the same building—though I must admit that _ennui_ finds its way in, even so."

"Your Royal Highness," Chauvelin said again, "—or may I still call you Marguerite? For I believe I can see in your eyes a tinge of regret that you are not still the simple Citoyenne St. Just that you were when I knew you, when you presided over your _salon_ as a queen." He directed his gaze slowly around the opera box, knowing Marguerite was watching his every movement. "Rather _déclassé_ , is it not, to become a mere princess after having been queen of Paris's _jeunesse dorée_? But then I suppose your husband's ardor—and, more importantly, his jewels—compensate for that loss."

"What do you want, Chauvelin?" the princess said, standing up abruptly.

"The Scarlet Pimpernel," Chauvelin said. "You have heard of him, have you not?"

"Heard of the Scarlet Pimpernel?" Marguerite laughed lightly, loud enough to be heard over the passionate duet that Orpheus and Euridice were singing on stage. "Faith, man! We talk of nothing else. We have hats 'à la Scarlet Pimpernel'; our horses are called Scarlet Pimpernel; my husband commissioned a necklace for me for tonight's ball and bless me if the jeweler did not call that 'à la Scarlet Pimpernel'."

"Then you have heard," Chauvelin said, leaning closer, "what the Scarlet Pimpernel is capable of, and you will understand that he is the most bitter enemy of our republic, of our beloved France."

"I suppose so," Marguerite said. "But I live in England now, so whatever help you have come to ask of me is not anything I can give. It would attract much too much attention, don't you think, if the Princess of Wales ran off to France?"

"But it is in England that I need help, citoyenne. You go everywhere, you are the pivot of social London; you see everything, you _hear_ everything. Find the Scarlet Pimpernel for me. Find him for France!" Chauvelin's speech had grown more and more impassioned as he went on, until this last exclamation was loud indeed. Those in the boxes surrounding seemed much less hesitant to hush him than they had been to hush the Princess of Wales, and a chorus of 'ssh's came from all sides.

"What you propose is horrible, Chauvelin," said Marguerite, Princess of Wales. She pulled a bell cord next to her, and her private secretary slipped back into the opera box. "Whoever this man may be, he is brave and noble, and never—do you hear me?—never would I lend a hand to such villainy."

Chauvelin stepped forward and bowed deeply over her hand. "This is not your last word, citoyenne," he said, and kissed her hand. "I shall call on you again soon."

"You may call on me for old time's sake, and for the sake of peace between our two governments," the princess said, "but that is my last word."

Chauvelin permitted himself another sharp-edged smile as he stood in the opera box's deepest shadow. "Farewell, Your Royal Highness."

He stepped out of the box and wandered down the corridor outside, deep in thought. He had known Marguerite St. Just for several years when they had been in Paris together, and he felt certain that he could find a way to persuade her to do his bidding. Her brother Armand, perhaps, might be a weak point. He would have to send a message back to France right away, instructing them to set a watch on Armand St. Just. Surely something could be found if they followed him long enough, and if there was nothing to be found, something could be invented.

An inane laugh interrupted his reverie. "Ah, Monsoo Chauvelin! The French envoy, do I have it right?"

Chauvelin bowed deeply to Percy, Prince of Wales, who for once was neither shooting in Scotland nor fishing in Wales nor yachting in the Channel. "You have the right of it, Your Royal Highness. I was just paying a visit to your charming wife. We were old friends in Paris, once upon a time."

"Ah, charming, charming," the prince said, with another foolish laugh. "Ah, well, I am sure our paths will cross again in a more official capacity soon enough—my secretary said something about a note from your secretary, I can't remember the details quite at present. So I shall bid you ado—or is it aw revore? My lovely wife would know, I'll have to ask her; she's brilliant like that." Another laugh, this one even longer than before, until it echoed down the corridor of the opera house. "I suppose 'goodbye' will have to suffice for now, Monsoo. My wife is waiting and I am sure she is terribly anxious for my presence."

Prince Percy flounced away down the corridor, followed by his retinue. As he watched him go, Chauvelin felt a stab of pity for the Princess of Wales; but then it was she who had chosen to unite herself with that idiot. Chauvelin had never thought that the Marguerite St. Just was the type of woman who would be captivated by a title and riches, but she obviously hadn't married the man for his brains.

But a discontent princess was someone who was more likely to decide to help Chauvelin, and for that, Chauvelin felt quite appreciative of Prince Percy. Beyond that, the man was of little importance. Chauvelin suspected that the mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel, even if he ran in the Prince of Wales's circles, wouldn't dare trust the prince with the secret of his identity. The prince was too much of a fool for that. And if he knew nothing, then he was useless to Chauvelin.

But his wife, that was a different matter. Chauvelin rubbed his hands together. Within the month, he thought. He would find the Scarlet Pimpernel, and he would have him killed, and England could seek solace for the loss of his brilliance in the arms of that idiot Prince Percy.

**Author's Note:**

> I really like the possibilities that this AU raises! Unfortunately the Trope Bingo deadline snuck up on me and I didn't have time to write a retelling of the entire book as I was tempted to, but I may have to come back and explore this AU more later!


End file.
